Technology: The Superhero of the 21st Century

January 10, 2008

Ring, ring… who could that be calling? No need to answer the phone before finding out, just look at the caller ID. Conveniently located on the base of the charger, the front panel of the handset, or with Time Warner Cable it is also available on the TV screen.

With a wave of technology passing us every year, it seems new and weirder things seem to hit the market. iPod, BlackBerry, MP3 player, Iphone, or any other things that we cannot explain have taken over the lives of the new generations.

When my friend said she just bought a BlackBerry, I asked why she just bought one and not a pint. With a confused look, she had to explain to me that it was a phone, computer, camera, organizer and GPS all in one and not a black fruit that looked like burnt raspberries. While holding her so called phone, and attempting to call someone, I felt as if I was be suffocated by technology. I didn’t know what I was doing with it, and I couldn’t figure out where the number pad was. This was a serious problem to me. I am 22 year old, and yet I feel like I am back in the 50’s with a brand new television and not able to figure it out.

When I figure out one thing, a new and improved (A.K.A. more confusing to operate) version comes on the market, my new contraption I bought becomes “old school.”

We all know of the no cell phone while driving law, and to that I say, "Thank goodness for Bluetooth." I am not talking about a tooth in our mouths that are blue, this has nothing to do with mouths. This new technology attaches to your ear, so that you can talk hands free on your cell phone. It takes awhile to realize someone is talking on their cell phone rather than to you or themselves when you see them doing it, but that is what it is. You can buy it along with your cell phone and use it anywhere.

As I was growing up, we had a TV in the living room and I was aloud one in my bedroom; a 13” my mom bought me for my 10^th birthday. Back then, it didn’t seem like a problem to have a TV in my room, everyone else had one. That was reason enough for me. My mom, Debra, on the other hand says, “I bought it so that the Nintendo could be hooked up in the bedroom and the living room could be free for company at all times. But if I could go back, I wouldn’t have gotten a TV for your bedroom.”

Kids and electronics: now days it is a war to get a kid of any age to have “family time” in the living room. In an average home, Lucy is in her room on the cordless phone, David is on the cell phone, dad is on the computer, mom is in the living room watching soaps, and little Sally is in her room watching… who knows what.

Not too many kids are out playing. Maybe it is the way we bring up our children. If they aren’t eating or sleeping, they are in front of the TV watching Dora the Explorer or Blue’s Clues. When is it time to set down the foot and say, “Go play with your friends outside, not the ones on the screen.”

©COPYRIGHT 2008 ASHLEY VINCENT

Saving Claws or Saving Skin

January 9, 2008

What is it about kittens that make us want one? Is it the fur that is still so fluffy and soft feeling? Or is it that they are just small and cuddly?

My boyfriend and I just got a new kitten four days ago. We already have a 10-year-old cat, but when some close friends got a kitten, something inside me longed for one too. We didn’t even talk it through too long, we just looked at each other and I began calling around to find a litter. That night, we were getting to know our new frisky friend we named Boston Cinder.

After the first night we knew we were in for some problem solving. Just on the ride home alone, my boyfriend and I had ended up with countless scratches. We recently bought a new home with new furniture, and of course we had our 15-month-old daughter who could not keep her little hands of the furry little guy. This worried me after I found a scratch on my daughter’s thigh and a tiny rip in the throw pillow on the sofa.

However, Boston Cinder was only two months old and therefore could not be declawed for another two months. I did some searching on Google and found Soft Claws. About.com featured an article by Franny Syufy, in which she stated, “Soft Claws, developed by a veterinarian, ranks high on the list of humane alternatives. Soft Claws comes in a reclosable plastic container, which includes 40 nail caps (enough for several applications), two tubes of adhesive, and instructions for application. If your cat is used to having his nails trimmed, applying Soft Claws is a breeze.” That sold me!

I went down the following night to my local pet store and asked for the caps. That was a sure $20.00 that I thought was a great investment, especially if it saved him from being declawed and saved our skin from scratches. Applying them was a synch and after they were on, I had no worries when my daughter picked him up. She was scratch free and I was in Soft Claws heaven.

Then the next day, one came off. I got the caps back out, applied glue and stuck his nail in. Badda bing badda boom, easy peasy. The next morning I found two plastic caps on the floor, checked his nails and sure enough, two more were off. Was I doing something wrong? No, it was right. The instructions said though that the cats might try to take them off or they may fall off when the nail shed. Well, Boston wasn’t chewing enough from it to come off that way and he hadn’t shed yet. I was now getting annoyed with the daily applications. I was worried my daughter would find the caps on the floor and eat one.

Was this really worth the $20.00? Maybe it was the right decision for a temporary fix before the declawing could take place. In my opinion though, I would not keep buying them in the future. I’d rather sell the kitten and save my 20’s.

©COPYRIGHT 2008 ASHLEY VINCENT

‘Twas the Year before Christmas…

January 8, 2008

1822: “ ‘Twas the night before Christmas…”

1990: “ ‘Twas the month before Christmas…”

2000: “ ‘Twas October before Christmas..”

2007: “ ‘Twas July before Christmas…”

I was reading the famous Christmas story ‘Twas the Night before Christmas by Clement C. Moore to my daughter Tarrah as her second Christmas approached. It was December 24^th, officially known as Christmas Eve, and as I read those words he scripted in 1822; a newer 2007 version entered my head.

With each passing year, Christmas seems to come a little earlier. Not that the date is changing, but the prelude has shifted. Gifts are bought in August, the wrapping is done by September, the decorations are bought in October and the Christmas songs come in November, immediately after Halloween. The stores are all bright and decorated, Thanksgiving is just a reminder for Black Friday and Santa Claus is the centerpiece in every mall. This past July when I walked into Big Lots, to my amazement, plastic Santa Claus heads were hanging in my face for Christmas in July. Christmas in July!?!

I was excited that my daughter was going to be 14 months old this year on Christmas so that she could have some fun unwrapping gifts and things, but by the time Thanksgiving came, I was oddly ready for the holidays to be over. I was sick of all the Christmas carols on the radio and sick of sleigh bells ringing in my ears at the store.

What was happening? Wasn’t Christmas special anymore? Didn’t it hold magic or wonder like it used to? Maybe as we grow into adults, the magic is overshadowed by the madness of the season.

I had no energy to run to the tree in the morning, I was not motivated to open presents, and by the time the snow fell it was after Christmas.

When I was little, my eyes used to light up at the sight of presents under the tree, now I know I am the one putting them there for my daughter. I used to have to eat breakfast first before presents, now I am the one making breakfast for my fidgeting little girl. After Christmas dinner at Grandma’s I used to go out and play in the snow, but now my daughter cannot do that because there is no snow on the ground due to global warming.

I used to love Christmas music whenever it would play, but now between November and January, that is all the radio plays. I used to love looking at my Christmas gifts under the tree for Christmas week until my mom put them away, now I am the one putting them away, putting in the batteries, putting together the kitchen set, setting up the playhouse, and programming things to talk.

Maybe when we all grow older and become the adults we always wanted to be when we were kids, Christmas becomes almost dreaded. The true meaning has been obscured and the new meanings have grown tiresome.

Then there are those who wish us to keep Christmas present all year long. Now that would be the icing on the fruit cake.

©COPYRIGHT 2008 ASHLEY VINCENT

Abuse: To Laugh or to Cry?

January 7, 2008

By: Ashley B. Vincent

I have found it quite amazing the way things change in society. I myself have a 15 month old daughter who is in the stages of exploration. She seems to find every new and old way to hurt herself. Not on propose, she doesn’t understand that word. But just by falling down, running into walls, hitting her head from crawling under the table, or shaking her rattle too hard it hits her face, she has experienced her share of pain. If she is anything like me, she will be an accident waiting to happen.

However, now day’s people make jokes that I don’t know whether to laugh or cringe at.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was in my second full year at Broome Community College in Binghamton, New York. After she was born, I decided to take a year off from school until I went back to graduate, so that I could spend time with my new bundle of joy.

When the year quickly came and passed, I made my decision fast. There was no way she was going to go to any daycare, and there was no way someone I didn’t know and trust was going to be watching my daughter. I had watched the news, looked at CNN and read the newspaper. Many kids were dying at the hand of their guardians, parents or daycare providers. Some kids weren’t even dying, they were just being abused. Diapers shoved in mouths, being held to the floor using corporal punishment, and shaken until they were a statistic of Shaken Baby Syndrome (SBS). I do have to say that not every place for kids is bad, but how do you choose the good apples from the bad ones without tasting one first?

I was not going to let anything happen to my daughter of any sort. (Even if that meant not going back to school, but doing it online or through the mail.) Luckily though, my boyfriend’s mother took charge and retired to watch her granddaughter. I knew she was in good hands and I could rest easy.

However, no mother can rest easy when every new step of their child ends up in a screaming cry because they bumped their head on the table or bruised their butt on the hard-tiled kitchen floor. And like every other child on earth, my daughter still is gaining her marks of growing. Every day she has some new scratch or bruise.

When my daughter came home from her grandmother’s the first day with I bump on her forehead from hitting it on the side table, my boyfriend made the crack to his mom, “What did my daughter do for you to beat her?” Now I know he was kidding, and so did she, but when did society decide that was something funny we could say? I have to admit, I have said something like that too, and when I say it, I feel like my mind steps back from my physical self and says, “THIS HAS TO BE WRONG!” There used to be a line that we shouldn’t cross, but where is it now? I was stunned. I was confused too. I didn’t know whether to laugh because she wouldn’t do that, or cry because that happens all around the world to kids.

I do know there is one line that never can be crossed that there is no way to joke about abuse, and that is in a sexual manner. But what is the difference between sexual abuse and physical abuse to not only kids but adults as well that makes it okay to joke about? Is society not on the same wave length? If we joke about abuse are we the ones that can abuse? If we laugh, should we be convicted or shunned?

There is no sand, but I think we ought to redraw the line that used to be in it. There should be no joking when someone’s well-being is at stake.

©COPYRIGHT 2008 ASHLEY VINCENT

HAPPY HOLIDAYS FRIENDS AND FAMILY 2007

HAPPY HOLIDAYS FRIENDS AND FAMILY!

T

he end of the year has approached us again,

But this year you all get to be filled in.

I finally get to write a letter like I’ve always wanted to do.

So here is my first year letter to you:

T

he year was joyous, as you know.

A baby was born one year and almost four months ago.

She has grown so much, cannot believe it now.

Larry and I have survived… Somehow.

Her hair is blonde and eyes are blue,

She gets her good looks from… you know who.

She took her first steps on mother’s day,

Now I can’t get her to stop to sit and play.

Teething was a struggle…and finally at 8 months one came in.

Do you know how long of a struggle it’s been?

By now she has eight,

And just two seconds ago is the last time she has ate.

She has an appetite just like her mama,

And just like me too, she is full of drama.

O

n November 16, 2007,

Larry’s sister and brother –in-law were blessed with a baby boy.

At 5 pounds 3 ounces, he looks like a baby doll toy.

Tarrah thought he was a toy until she heard him cry.

You should have seen her jump when she heard, she really touched the sky.

L

arry and I bought a new house, it’s an early Christmas present.

Now we have a mortgage instead of wasting money on rent.

The house is bigger for Tarrah to explore,

Bigger bigger bigger by so much more.

L

arry got a job at Broome Community College,

And I went back there to gain some more knowledge.

We are a busy bunch; you know how it is…

We barely have time that is just mine and his.

But we manage, and we get through,

We know its part of life, and it’s what we have to do.

S

o now, the Christmas tree is decorated, the stockings are hung.

Tarrah doesn’t know Santa is coming, she is still too young.

The mistletoe is waiting for a kiss goodnight,

Before Ashley, Larry and Tarrah turn out the light.

We wish you a Merry Christmas and New Years too…

As we sign off with,

From OUR family to YOU!

Santa’s Reindeer are on Strike:Can it be resolved before Christmas?

'Twas the night before Christmas but all was not well. The reindeer, Santa found out, had decided to go on strike!

They had heard on TV about a strike by Hollywood screenwriters and the recently resolved Broadway stagehand walkout.

So outside their stable, the reindeer organized. They made signs with catchy slogans, such as "Respect Reindeer Rights!"

Their demands: name-brand oats and herbal teas. Aromatherapy. Massages.

In exchange for their hard work of flying all over the world, they thought they should get spa vacations, reindeer facials and hoof pedicures.

They wanted daily yoga and step classes. And then they decided their stables were all wrong -- they needed feng shui!

One more item went on their list: They wanted better PR. If they only had agents ... After all, they were famous. It had worked for Rudolph; why not for the rest of them?

Outside Santa's Workshop, they picketed and chanted, "A stable united cannot be divided!" Indoors, at preliminary negotiations, the reindeer and the big guy literally locked horns.

"Oh dear," said Santa. (No pun intended.) "I must find a way for their gripes to be addressed."

He hemmed and he hawed, with no clue of what to do.

And then...

Santa called Mrs. Clause with his voice in such a frantic. “Mama, mama- the reindeer won’t stop! What do I do? “

“There is only one thing you can do dear.” Her voice settled with a comforting sound.

Santa knew what she was thinking. Had the reindeer been extra good, they usually got some imported lichen that they most certainly loved. But every so often, the reindeer got feisty and wanted some homemade apple-pie that was fresh from Mrs. Clause’s oven. Santa knew that reindeer couldn’t eat apple-pie. That was a preposterous idea.

But maybe, just maybe, this would work to end the strike.

He called into the winter air, he called them by name. He called them to the porch, this was no reindeer game. Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! Come on, Comet! Come on, Cupid! Come on, Donder and Blitzen!

It had to work he thought. He scratched his head and tugged at his beard. He waited by the window, “They won’t come!” His eyes widened, as mama opened the front door. They traipsed in, hoof by hoof, antler by antler, into the kitchen to a slice of freshly warm backed apple-pie.

The reindeer cheered and yelled in harmony, “We are so sorry. We just can’t stand all the talking of this apple-pie you do. It is so delicious, warm and sweet. The strike is off, there is no more you see. We will ride into the night and deliver presents to every Christmas tree.”

Poem for 2007 Winter Beauty Pageant

For the pageants, there is an "About Me" section that the contestant is to fill out, however, since Tarrah is so young, they ask that the parent writes something. I of course, choose to write a cute poem:

I may be small,
But don’t let that fool you.
My heart is big;
I will show all of you.
I love to sing and dance.
And so far in life I have been blessed.
I love my mommy and daddy,
They certainly are the best.
I’ll win you over
With my eyes so blue
And with my blonde little curls
I have too.
I have a couple pearly whites,
But they are quite hard to see.
The only people who can get me to smile
Is my silly family.
My smile is charming,
But to see it, is rare.
Usually I have a serious face
That tends to always be there.
I can be a cutie
And a little Miss.
I pucker up my lips
When mama asks for a kiss.